“25 years.

Every year on August 9th, I stop whatever I’m doing and take a moment to count my blessings.

Twenty-five years ago today, I was about to walk into the Sbarro restaurant in Jerusalem.

I was spending the summer in Israel, and every Thursday I ran errands with the same cab driver. Around lunchtime, we’d stop so I could grab him a slice of spinach pizza and a Diet Coke.

That Thursday started exactly the same.

As I was about to walk in, he suddenly got out of the car, grabbed me, and told me not to bother. He said we were pressed for time and didn’t want pizza anymore.

That had never happened before.

I argued with him for a moment, then gave in. We drove away.

Less than two minutes later, we heard the explosion.

A terrorist had detonated a bomb inside the restaurant, murdering 15 innocent men, women, and children and injuring more than 100 others.

I don’t know why G-d chose to spare me that day.

I don’t know why I was given another 25 years when others weren’t.

What I do know is that every August 9th reminds me that life is unbelievably fragile, tomorrow is never guaranteed, and every single day is a gift.

Over the last 25 years, I’ve tried to become a better husband, father, son, friend, and member of my community. I’ve tried to use this second chance to make a positive difference wherever I could.

Have I done enough? Not even close.

There’s still so much more I hope to accomplish.

But today isn’t about looking ahead.

It’s about looking up.

Thank You, G-d, for 25 years I very easily might never have had.

I pray I’ll continue to use them well.

G-d is great.”